“Well, word around town is she took it too far with some new billionaire who’s slumming it on a houseboat. Apparently, he caught her lying on his bed, wearing a baseball hat of his, and probably sniffing his pillows.”
“She was sniffing his pillows?” I say, my eyes threatening to bug out of their sockets.
“I said probably, not that it was certain,” Emma says, wagging a finger my way. “This is how gossip begins.”
“You started it.” I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “But, to be fair, we knew she was going to get herself into trouble.”
“Apparently, her mom works for the local police department.” Emma chuckles, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Twenty bucks says she ends up in the county jail, courtesy of her mom. Tough love, small-town style.”
“You could only get away with that in Sweetkiss Creek,” I agree, biting back my own laughter.
“Anyway,” Emma says as she taps the folder in her hand, drawing my attention back. “I spoke to Coach Donovan for you. Anyone else need a nudge?”
I grab a scrap of paper, scribbling a number on it, and hand it to her. “Yeah, give this number a call. Let them know I’m cleared for practice. You’d be saving me a lot of hassle.”
“Will do.” Emma’s attention shifts as a rustling sound comes from the archway leading into the living room. We both look and find my new housekeepers, both in their early sixties and rocking silver hairstyles that my mother calls “chic,” chatting away to one another as they shuffle by.
“The new order?” she queries, one eyebrow arched.
“You bet it is. They’re both too busy with their own families to even think of making an extra casserole each week for little old me.”
Emma snickers. “Have you checked your sock and underwear inventory?”
“Not yet, but I will. I think I need to keep an eye on the shorter one of the two. She seems shifty.”
Emma laughs. “She’s untrustworthy?”
“I’ve only deemed her to be sus,” I say, making her laugh again.
We head toward the front door, and as I open it wide, my eyes drift to the house at the front of the property.
“So,” Emma says, noticing where I’ve focused my gaze. “How are you feeling about heading to Florida these days?”
“I’ll feel even better,” I say, tapping the paper in her hand, “once you make that call. Text me when it’s done, okay?”
She gives me an odd look but laughs it off as she heads down the steps. “You got it.”
I watch her car disappear down the driveway before finally shutting the door. Emma’s been by my side for the last eighteen months, pushing me to get back on my feet, and now here I am—ready to tackle life again.
And it feels pretty darn amazing.
Pulling out my phone, I dive into the next phase of my plan. Tomorrow night isn’t just another Friday—it’s the culmination of months of rehab, determination, and more than a few sleepless nights. It’s my chance to finally take back control, both on the field and off. It’s a goodbye to what was and hello to what will be.
I’ve been dreaming about this moment, and now that it’s within reach, there’s no way I’m leaving anything to chance. Everything has to be perfect, starting with Bex. I look out the window, staring at her house with such intensity that, for a moment, I swear my gaze could set the field ablaze. Dragging my eyes to the hedge that seems to sit between us, literally and figuratively, I can only imagine her delight if I managed to setthaton fire.
Bex. The thought of her makes me smile. It’s amazing how when you meet someone, and not just anyone, but your someone, things change. Doors seem to open that didn’t before, and you have ideas that pop into your mind—call it divine inspiration? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s the essence of what falling in love means to me.
When I was young, falling in love meant big feelings. Drama. It was embellishment, not sacrifice. But if you were sacrificing, you couldn’t do it at your own chagrin. Yet, since Bex has come along, I’m realizing that I don’t like that definition. I’m not a fan of what I once thought. I want more.
I want a better half, but I want to be here to lift them up, too. I want to show up and be my best so I can light us up, not wait for her to shine her brightness to keep us afloat, nor should she have to worry about me either. I like the independence, and the intertwined. The balance of it all. The sunny side to keep things bright and light.
I want Bex.
She’s been on my mind constantly, and tomorrow night is my shot to show her how much she means to me. This isn’t just a game; it’s a play for something real, something lasting. I need to get it right, down to the smallest detail. I want her to look back on this night and to know I moved mountains for her, and only for her.
I can already picture her now with the lights of the field catching in her eyes, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as she looks at me. It’s a moment I’ve been building toward, and I won’t let it slip through my fingers.
I fire off a quick text:
